


Ain't Room Enough For Two

by hollymarionn



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:25:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollymarionn/pseuds/hollymarionn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unfortunately for Mikey, there seemed to be about a 5 year gap in the photo’s he had collected. There was not one from the years Gerard was in college.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't Room Enough For Two

Frank had just started his second semester at college when he met Gerard. The dark haired boy, with the pixie face, all pointed nose and long dark eyelashes. Every Wednesday morning he slipped into Frank’s creative writing lecture half an hour late and, to be quite honest, Frank wasn’t even sure if he was taking the class because he never took notes. And every Wednesday morning, he would sit on the bench next to Frank, in the far back corner, close enough that Frank could practically taste the alcohol fumes rolling off the other man, could see the dark hollows under his eyes.

While Frank wrote careful notes in small blocky writing, Gerard would scribble in his battered notebook, sketches of skeletons, man-eating plants and even once, what looked like a vampire doing the Macarena. Frank could have sworn though, that the zombie Gerard drew on the 5th Wednesday of the semester had Frank’s tattoos, or that the werewolf sorta had his face.

“Gerard.”

One of his classmates finally gave him a name, but not before Frank had made a fool of himself by asking almost everyone that shared his Wednesday 8 til 12 lecture. He had gotten used to their little routine, even looking forward to it. Gerard would stumble in late, more often than not still in his tartan pajama bottoms, hair a sleepy mess and flop down beside Frank, the stench of cigarettes and stale alcohol and what Frank could only assume was Gerard himself washing over him. Then Gerard would utter the only words that ever passed between them.

“Can I borrow a pen?”

Frank pushed one over in response, just like every other week. And seriously, maybe he should just buy the guy a pen, he thought. But no, that would ruin their routine and Frank hated the prospect of losing what little contact he had with the mysterious, monster drawing, pajama clad student.

 

*

 

On the 7th Wednesday of the semester, Gerard turned up later than he ever had, earning a glare from the elderly professor. Frank hadn’t been able to focus at all throughout the lecture, his notebook blank, his thoughts straying to Gerard, his whereabouts, worrying about his lateness and the possible reasoning behind it.

Gerard stumbled in uncharacteristically dressed in day-time clothes, for the first time ever Frank thought. The green flannel shirt was too loose, his black jeans were bordering on too tight, and Frank vaguely wondered whether it was possible to hide a hard on while wearing them, before looking back down at his blank page, a warm blush climbing his cheeks.

Instead of asking him for a pen, when Gerard sat down he promptly scooted close to Frank and laid his head on his shoulder. Frank froze, his heart racing. He tried to focus on the professor, on what he was saying, but the blood thumping on his ears, and Gerard’s fucking head on his shoulder, made that a little difficult. He sat as still as possible, unsure of what to do, taking in Gerard’s odour and honestly he couldn’t tell if he found it unpleasant or not. Gerard’s hair tickled Frank’s cheek as he shifted a little, his body leaning heavily against Frank, soft snores issuing from his lopsided mouth.

Frank sat impossibly still for the next hour and a half, taking no notes and focusing hard on how to breathe, rather than the fact that Gerard’s hand was resting on his thigh and that he had the strongest urge to rub gentle circles on it with his thumb.

When the lecture ended, the noise of students filtering out of the class, mumbling and scraping and thumping, seemed to wake Gerard out of his doze. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, looking up at Frank with dark eyes. He leaned back, stifling a yawn then cast a crooked smile at Frank before standing and leaving the room without so much as a backward glance.

 

*

 

The next Wednesday, the 8th week, marked the halfway point in the semester. Frank arrived a little early to his creative writing lecture, his hands shaky, jittery. It had nothing to do with the disposable coffee cup gripped in one hand either. That wasn’t his. When Gerard showed the lecture was only 10 minutes through and Frank slid the paper cup and a pen across to him. Gerard cocked his head at Frank as he reached for the cup.

Frank let him take a long sip of the warm, black liquid before he whispered, “To make sure you don’t fall asleep again.”

Gerard’s face lit up and high pitched laughter spilled out of him, loudly and unexpectedly. Several students swiveled their heads around to source the noise, most of them sending dirty looks their way. He leaned back coolly as and Frank watched Gerard out of the corner of his eye, drinking his coffee slowly, savouring it, as inappropriate thoughts of licking into Gerard’s coffee flavoured mouth swirled around in his brain.

After the cup was empty, Gerard sat forward, hunched over his notebook and didn’t move for the rest of the lecture, other than his hand which scratched and flicked over the pages relentlessly. When the professor ended the lecture by reminding them of the assignment due the following week, Frank packed his books and pens back into his satchel. He turned to find Gerard standing over him, pen in his outstretched hand.

“What’s your name?” He asked as Frank made to take the pen.

“Frank,” he said before adding “Iero,” as an afterthought. “Frank Iero.”

“Well Frank Iero, I think you should call me.” Gerard threw over his shoulder as he walked toward the exit.

Frank looked down at his hands, then pen still grasped tightly in the left one, smiling so wide he thought his face might split. It wasn’t until half way home on the subway that Frank remembered he didn’t have Gerard’s number and couldn’t, in fact, make the call that Gerard had suggested.

And it wasn’t until his Friday afternoon lecture on the history and evolution of literature that Frank realized he did have his number after all. He turned his notebook to a new page before pulling out a pen and uncapping it, a small, screwed up ball of paper falling from the lid. After smoothing the paper out as best he could with the pad of his thumb, he saw numbers scrawled across it in smudged spidery writing and couldn’t contain the childish giggle that built in his throat as his chest tightened in excitement.

 

*

 

Early the next morning Frank’s excitement had been replaced by swarms of what felt to be bees buzzing in his stomach as he dialed Gerard’s number, listening to the reassuring beep of the buttons, before swiftly slamming shut his phone before hitting the call button. After four attempts, Frank made himself a bowl of cereal and sat to ponder, staring intently at the phone as he crunched. His bowl was empty, carefully drained of milk that had dribbled down his chin, when he picked up the phone again, punching in the numbers and hitting call before his brain could interfere.

“’Lo?” Gerard’s voice was thick with sleep and Frank mentally kicked himself for calling so early. Not everyone was an early riser like he was, Frank knew this, but he should of realized that considering Gerard had never been on time to a lecture so far this semester, that Gerard was more of a ‘rise at noon’ sort of guy.

“Uh, Gerard? It’s Frank… From Creative Writing 201.” He could hear shifting on the other end of the phone as Gerard sat up and tried to shake his heavy head, to wake himself up. “You, uh, you told me to call?”

“I thought that maybe you lent your pen to another cute stranger and didn’t get my note,” Gerard replied, and Frank was still internally debating as to whether this call was a good idea, cursing himself because it was too late to hang up now.

“Nope, I got it,” and Duh, Frank, obviously.

“Well now you should go get the pen,” Gerard said, apparently completely missing the part where Frank was being a total loser.

“What? Why?” Frank asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. Gerard laughed softly, his voice still scratchy from sleep and last night’s cigarettes.

“So you can write down my address,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The bees in Frank’s stomach decided that right then was a good time to try and escape, trying their best to burst their way out. They were probably stinging too, but Frank was too giddy to care.

Gerard quickly reeled his address off, then promptly said “Leave soon Iero,” before hanging up.

Frank wasn’t sure if the buzzing in his head was coming from the receiver still pressed to his ear or if it was the bees surging up his throat.

20 minutes later Frank found himself standing outside a white wooden door, the paint peeling from the bottom, the brass number 31 tarnished, in a cold hallway, debating whether or not to knock, or to leg it back to his apartment. He could tell Gerard he got lost, that he spent hours searching.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and curled his hand into a fist, bringing it up to rap sharply on the splintering wood. His heart hammered in time with his hand against the door. He stood there for what felt like an eternity, wondering if anyone was coming, debating whether to knock again or leave. Just as he was about to turn, he heard locks clicking behind the door. It was Jersey after all.

The door swung open to reveal Gerard wearing his signature tartan pajama pants, a loose, holey grey singlet, and hair in its usual birds nest. Frank tried to squash the urge to run his hands through it.

“You’re here,” he said, a smile spreading across his face, “Great.”

He grabbed Frank by the front of his coat and dragged him into his apartment.

 

*

 

And so that’s how Frank had found himself straddling Gerard on his couch, early on a Saturday morning, Gerard’s erection pressing against the inside of his thigh through his pajama pants, keenly exploring each other’s mouths.

Gerard bit down and pulled gently on Frank’s lip ring, earning a moan, and slid his hands down Frank’s now-shirtless torso, to grasp his ass cheeks firmly and it was all Frank could do to not rock down against him. Gerard broke away from Frank’s mouth and he almost, almost whined in disappointment, but was saved from making a fool of himself when Gerard’s lips attached to the side of his neck, his tongue running softly over the dark scorpion tattooed there.

Suddenly Frank felt that it wasn’t enough. He needed Gerard to touch him. He needed skin on skin. He needed _something_. Before Gerard can even register, Frank is up and stripping his torn jeans off down his legs, standing fully naked in front of him, his cock standing proudly erect, flushed against the creamy skin of his stomach. 

“Bedroom,” Gerard orders, his cock twitching, “now!”

Gerard lead him through the small apartment, leaving a trail of clothes behind him, slipping his pajama pants off to reveal his lack of underwear. Frank thought his head might explode. He watches the swivel of Gerard’s hips, his eyes fixed on the pale, gorgeous ass that he so badly wants to reach out and grab.

Frank is so lost in his thoughts that he almost walked into the back of Gerard when he stops to open a door, revealing the messiest bedroom he had ever seen, and that’s really saying something considering Frank rooms with 3 other college guys.

All thoughts of cleanliness were pushed from his mind when Gerard sat down on the edge of the unmade bed, raising an eyebrow seductively at him, eyes practically dancing over Frank’s tattooed form and lingering far too long on his cock.

“What are you waiting for?” Gerard’s voice is deep and lusty. Frank takes that as a pretty good invitation to drop between his knees

He grasped the base of Gerard’s cock in one hand, the other on his thigh to brace himself. Gerard hissed at the sudden contact as Frank licked across the head, tasting Gerard’s precum, salty on his tongue before sucking it into his mouth.

If Gerard wasn’t so distracted by how insanely fucking good it felt, he was sure that he would be focusing harder on how gorgeous Frank looked bobbing up and between his thighs, face a little flushed, lips taut. He tangled his fingers into Frank’s short soft hair, tugging gently and when Frank moaned around his cock in response he thought, oh fuck yeah, that was definitely happening again.

Frank swallowed Gerard into his throat and his hips bucked up in response. All of a sudden Frank’s hands were like tiny little vice grips holding Gerard against the bed, taking him down again and again until the muscles in his stomach were clenching and his thighs were quivering and moans were spilling freely from his mouth. He gripped Frank’s hair tighter as he came down the boy’s throat.

Gerard trembled as Frank sat back on his knees, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and looking up at Gerard with used pink lips. He had no time to come down, or to bask in the afterglow of his amazing orgasm before Frank was back in his lap, lips attacking his, pushing him back roughly on the bed. His body was pressed firmly against his, hot and thrumming with want. He trailed his fingers over the tattoos spread across his skin as Frank kissed down his neck slowly, gently.

“Fuck me!” He almost pushed Frank off when he bit down almost too hard on the flesh between his neck and collarbone.

Frank kindly obliged.

 

*

 

“Oh come on dude, you can’t take up my whole day and then refuse to come out with me at night,” Frank whined at Gerard, resisting the urge to stomp his foot like a four year old.

“I didn’t exactly hear you complaining,” Gerard quirked an eyebrow up at him from his sprawled position on the couch.

Frank rolled his eyes, trying to ignore how good Gerard looked with severe sex hair, his black locks wild around his face. His persuasions to convince Gerard to come out for a drink with him were failing miserably.

“Fine,” he muttered once he realized Gerard wasn’t going to change his mind, “I guess I will see you around.”  
  
“I guess you will,” Frank had his back turned when Gerard answered, didn’t notice the twinkle in his green eyes.

 

*

 

Frank had gone out with his roommates anyway. He wasn’t going to let some stupid, gorgeous guy with his dumb, amazing mouth get him down. So he definitely wasn’t sulking and he definitely wasn’t getting blind drunk.

“Dude,” Bob yelled at him as he took a shot of tequila, “that’s like at least your seventh. Maybe you should slow down.”

Seventh? That couldn’t be right. Frank just turned to grin happily at Bob, thinking maybe _he_ should be the one to calm down considering there was two of him. But now that Bob mentioned it, Frank’s bladder was feeling a little fuller than it should be, so he politely excused himself and turned to find the nearest bathroom.

He walked in what he thought resembled a pretty great straight line. He only bumped into like, 5 or 6 people, which he thought was a pretty decent effort. Frank was about a metre from the bathroom door when _another_ person collided with him and Jesus, it was as if these people couldn’t walk straight or something. He turned to glare at the girl that had walked into his path.

“Watch it,” he grunted.

“Hey man, you walked into me,” she grinned back at him, ignoring how much of an asshole he was.

And oh. Wait, was that…

“Gerard?” He asked as the face came into focus. The person had the same round, green eyes as Gerard, the same lopsided grin, the same tiny pointed nose, all be it under a thick layer of makeup. But this Gerard had longer hair, down past their… wait were those boobs?

Frank had spent the majority of the day touching and exploring every inch of Gerard’s body and he was pretty sure he would have fucking noticed if the dude had full on tits.

 “Oh no,” the smile grew wider to reveal the same small blocky teeth that Gerard had used to bite Frank’s nipples, “I’m his twin sister Georgia.”

Frank scanned the girl quickly, taking in the short, tight black dress, fishnet stockings and platform heels she was wearing and oh, of course Gerard had a sister.

“Woah, he didn’t tell me he had a _twin_ ,” Frank exclaimed.

“I’m sure it didn’t come up,” she smirked back at him.

 

*

 

“Dude, you didn’t tell me you had a twin?”

Frank and Gerard were tangled together naked in Gerard’s sheets, sweaty and smelling of sex, sharing a cigarette. He had meant to ask Gerard earlier, but he had been distracted somewhat by Gerard’s persistent groping and the apparent need for his tongue to be down Frank’s throat.

“It never came up,” Gerard shrugged nonchalantly, “but yeah, she lives here with me.”

Frank’s eyes widened in horror.

“She’s not…” He trailed off, a flush rising from his chest through to the top of his ears as he thought of the embarrassing and very _very_ loud noises he had been making only a few minutes ago.

“No,” Gerard just chuckled and exhaled a plume of smoke and passed the cigarette to Frank, “she is very rarely here. Mostly uses it as a place to get ready. Spends hours in the bathroom trying to get her makeup perfect.”

Frank took a drag and nodded as if he understood. He didn’t though. He’d never lived with a female.

“So,” Gerard said slyly, taking the cigarette from his fingers and crushing it in the ash tray by the bed, “you can make as much noise as you like.”

 

*

 

 It had been two months since they had been ‘together’ and Gerard was still being a stubborn prick about meeting Frank’s friends, refusing to come out clubbing, or to the movies or even over to his flat for Mario Kart nights. Frank thought maybe he was ashamed to be seen with him in public but Gerard insisted that he was just really busy and always had plans.

After one too many bourbon’s, Frank was perched on Bob’s shoulders, head banging to the live music in the club. His complaints that he was too short to see the stage were so persistent that finally Bob had given in purely to shut the guy up, with the warning that if he fell, it was his own problem.

The set finished and Frank scanned the room, looking at the sea of heads below him. He couldn’t believe how much he missed out on by being 5 foot nothing. Just as he was contemplating whether it would be worth buying stilts, he noticed a familiar face on the other side of the room. A familiar face that looked just like Gerard, but wasn’t. A familiar face that had just come out of the men’s bathroom. Frank rubbed his eyes and shook his head a little to clear the alcohol fog, but sure enough, it had been the male toilets that Georgia had emerged from.

Frank frowned a little, then thought that he maybe wanted to get down but he wasn’t sure of the best way to get Bob’s attention. He lowered his fingers and poked them straight into Bob’s eyeballs. That did the trick. Next thing he knew, Frank was lying flat on his back on the dirty, sticky bar floor with a really mad Bob bearing down on him with slightly bloodshot eyes. He stood and ran for it, hoping Bob was blinded enough that he wouldn’t catch him because Frank couldn’t run too fast when he was giggling like a 4 year old.

He wound his way through the crowd toward the bathrooms where he had last seen Georgia. He spotted her leaning against a table chatting with a group of friends. He walked up and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned slowly, her eyes out of focus due to, Frank assumed, the copious amounts of alcohol she had consumed. But when they landed on Frank, a wide, lopsided smile broke across her face.

“FRANK,” she let out shrilly, a laugh bubbling up inside her chest as she flung her arms around his neck. She smelt like sweet perfume and the lavender body wash that Gerard used and slightly like cigarettes and sex. Frank wasn’t sure what to do when your boyfriend’s sister hugged you so he patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. Finally she tottered back in her heels and seriously, that should be a safety concern Frank thought.

“I just wanted to ask you a…” Frank trailed off as he noticed the shine of her chest in the flashing lights of the bar, a sheen of sweat from the dancing causing her makeup to smudge slightly. Frank rubbed his eyes again. Surely he wasn’t seeing what he thought he was seeing.

“Smoke break?” He offered up feebly. She nodded, reaching for Frank’s hand and pulling him through the crowd, his inky fingers laced with hers, her talon-like fake nails digging into his palm. His head swirled with half-thoughts that he couldn’t put together. He needed outside. Air would help.

They stumbled outside into the chill of the night, into an ally beside the bar, the thumping of the music dulled but audible in the quiet street. Frank shook a cigarette out of the carton and offered it to Georgia, who accepted it and placed it straight between her perfectly lined lips, blood red and shiny. Frank lit it for her as she shielded the flickering flame from the wind before he lit up his own.

They drew breaths in silence and he watched Georgia cautiously out of the corner of his eye. She blew her smoke out of the very corner of her mouth, just like Gerard. His eyes wandered down again to her chest. He could see better out here, in the bright light of a street lamp, the slightly darker patch of skin, a hickey that had been covered with layers of makeup which had smudged off since the beginning of the night. A dark purple hickey on her left collarbone. A hickey that Frank had left on Gerard.

Frank took one last drag on his cigarette and crushed it into the ground with the heel of his boot. He breathed the smoke out steadily. And then he was on her, pushing her back against the wall. His tongue fought inside her mouth, as her cigarette lay forgotten on the ground, and he felt lipstick sliding and slipping against his lips. Gross, he thought, how did straight people deal with this shit? Frank slid one hand into Georgia’s long dark hair and the other up between them to grope at her boob, praying that his hunch was right, or else he was going to make this situation and his relationship with Gerard very awkward.

Frank had fast, agile fingers and they slipped into Georgia’s bra before she even knew what was happening, her arms flailing around behind Frank due to the suddenness of the kiss. His fingers grazed against something smooth and he knew it, he fucking knew it!

He grasped the silicone fillet and pulled it swiftly from inside the bra at the same time that he yanked the wig from her head, stepping back and waving them in the air around his head giggling hysterically. He looked like a loon, with red lipstick smeared across his lips and down his chin, doing what could only be described as some sort of a jig.

“Well, well, well Gerard Way,” Frank called in a sing song voice as Gerard’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, visible even through the layers of makeup, “what do we have here?”

 

*

 

 

Frank sat atop Gerard as he traced the lines of the small birds inked into his skin, just above his underwear as they shared a lazy kiss, broken by the buzz of a cellphone emitting from Frank’s jeans on the floor.

“Do you have to?” Gerard rolled his eyes as Frank lent down carefully to retrieve it without having to hop up. He shushed Gerard and flipped open the phone.

“Hey Mikey.”

“ Hey Frank. So I looked through the photo’s you gave me,” Mikey started and Frank already knew what was coming, “and there was nothing from your college years.”

Mikey had appeared at Frank and Gerard’s door a week ago, asking Frank for any photos he had of Gerard. His 30th birthday was coming up and Mikey was putting together a slide show of photos throughout his life, from smiling baby to pudgy teenager to the man he was now. Frank had stuffed his arms with a box full of polaroid’s and prints and a hard drive of all the photos they owned.

Unfortunately for Mikey, there seemed to be about a 5 year gap in the photo’s he had collected. There was not one from the years Gerard was in college.

“Sorry Mikes,” Frank smiled down at the man laying below him, “there are no photos from that time in Gee’s life.”

Without even knowing the context of the conversation, Gerard knew exactly what Frank was talking about and Frank giggled as he watched a crimson flush climb Gerard’s cheeks, his face matching the colour of his, now shockingly vibrant red, hair.


End file.
